#[say you'll never die you'll always haunt me; sixty billion]

[forgivenpunishment]

This hotel room is fancier than the ones they tended to inhabit along the roads of their home world. Plush, comfortable beds. Generous amounts of water on the meter.

The fact that they are in a city—granted, May city, far from July or Jeneora Rock or any of the other truly familiar places—is unnerving as it is, but…

Well, this world is calm. At peace for the moment. Something about the Knives of this realm being married with a farm and adopted children.

It's a place to pause and take a breath.

Vash is half-dressed for sleep and caught in the mirror in the ensuite amid fading steam. Present but not really, he finger combs through damp shoulder-length hair that doesn't show a single dark strand. Not even underneath. Not even his stubble, he notes as he purses his lips and scritch-scratches at the edge of his jaw.

⩥ @sixty-billion (Goldie) || pre-honeymoon honeymoon

Nick may have proposed in the comfort of a fleeting dream, but—according to both Meryl and this world's Knives—he has to follow through in the real world as well. They're right, of course, and after everything, Vash deserves a little bit of a vacation. Three vacations, really, as he and Meryl will take their own, followed by one with the three of them. Destinations pending.

Maybe the third destination can be somewhere by the sea. That sounds nice—there are so many amazing places out there though, he's sure they'll find somewhere perfect.

For now, Meryl gets to spend quality time with Nicholas, and they deserve it. Both of them. After what they went through in his home world, after nearly losing him, after his recovery, they need it. It's a necessary reprieve that they're incredibly lucky to experience at all.

Here, now, Vash is his focus. Brilliant, radiant Vash—somehow blonder than he left him. Somehow with new limbs, smooth, flawless. Nick can hardly keep his hands off of him; the feeling appears to be mutual, as Vash is almost always tethered to him somehow. Always touching. Him and Meryl both are tactile lovers—always a point of contact, and every moment of downtime is time enough for a cuddle or a hand through hair, or a kiss.

Wolfwood lounges on the bed in his usual pair of gray sweatpants, idly tossing and catching a rotund black cat plush they'd won at a fair game. He is also freshly clean—it was far too tempting to take a shower with Vash, he simply requires less maintenance than the blond. It remained chaste; both men merely wanted to feel the other against their body. That's all they needed.

"Hey, what gives," Nick calls out to him through the open doorway, "I thought this vacation was all about me and you. Didn't know I had a mirror to compete with. Should I go get mine?"

[forgivenpunishment]

❛  you deserve to be happy.  ❜

⩥ @sixty-billion || five words [OPEN]

❛  you deserve to be happy.  ❜

From the cracked concrete of his cell, his mind tortures him with dreams of Vash. Dreams—nightmares, more like—further burden him with the guilt, the shame, the misery. Why is this imprisonment so much worse than the last? He's always known happiness is just out of his reach, slipping through his fingers, yet—

He can't look at the visage of Vash, he's not real.

His heart feels like it will burst under the pressure of his words; he'd cry if he had any tears left to cry.

He's alone.

His cheek remains plastered to the cracks filled with his own blood; his hair sticks up in strange spikes without any reason to care. All he does every day is drift in and out of sleep until he is blessed again. Depression has always been natural for Wolfwood, but this is another level of hopelessness. He hopes the flying worms pick at him like carrion.

"You don't know what you're talking about..."

Did he say that out loud?

At least the overwhelming self-flagellation is making it hard for the Eye of Michael to return him to becoming the weapon he was always meant to be. The punishment he receives is harsh, daily, sadistic, but it is well deserved. All of it is.

[forgivenpunishment]

i think  …  i think i need a doctor .

⩥ @sixty-billion || dire straits [OPEN]

i think  …  i think i need a doctor .

That's a concerning thing to hear first thing upon reuniting after separating during a fight. Vash is hidden from view, talking to him from behind the bathroom door—not even letting him see what the damage is.

"Spikey, you never see doctors—come on, it can't be that bad."

Silence.

"Hey, what's going on in there? Are you just takin' a shit or somethin'? You want me to leave you alone?"

There's no way in hell he's going to leave Vash alone now, not after saying something so worrying. Wolfwood knows whatever's going on has nothing to do with the man's bowels. Well, nothing to do with digestion—God, his organs better all be inside; if he's hiding something serious...

"Needles? Blondie... C'mon, are you seriously giving me the silent treatment?"

He tries to hide the quiver of worry in his voice, especially when there's no response, again—

Thud.

"Okay, I'm comin' in whether you're decent or not—"

A sharp gasp escapes his parted lips as he slams open the locked door.

"Vash—!"

[forgivenpunishment]

i’m great! well, not really, but i’m just going to pretend i’m happy so everybody can be okay!

⩥ @sixty-billion (7) || crit role prompts [OPEN]

i’m great! well, not really, but i’m just going to pretend i’m happy so everybody can be okay!

"Well it doesn't work so good when you tell me that's what you're gonna do," Nick reaches up to wrap an arm around the blond's neck, bringing him down to the bedside as he drives his knuckles into his scalp. The long, soft, golden strands surprise him—he's used to the spiky, needly hair from before this whole mess happened.

Once he's suitably messed with the man's hair enough, Nick pulls Vash down further and holds his head to his chest. While he may be recovering from some downright awful injuries, he's alive—they're both alive. That's what matters. The beat of his heart, the freedom, the new concept that maybe everything will be okay... that's what they need to hold onto right now.

"You better be genuinely happy after all we went through to get you," he teases, a slight crack in his voice as he props his chin on Vash's head, "We're okay. We're safe. The least you can do is smile about it, Spikey."